Captain John Smith

by C. H. Forbes-Lindsay

Hour followed hour without bringing any sight of the ship’s boat to our hero impatiently pacing the deck, nor did the return of day afford any sign of the captain and his craft. By this time John’s anxiety had reached a painful pitch. With the exception of his small sword and the clothes upon his back everything he possessed had left the ship in the boat, which he began to fear had foundered in the storm that was not yet exhausted. If this were true his plight was a sorry one, indeed. With straining eyes he spent the day gazing across the mile of water that lay between the ship and the little village of St. Valèry. The waves gradually subsided as the day wore on, and when evening approached the sea was running in a long heavy swell. John felt that he could not abide another night of uncertainty and was seriously debating in his mind the chances of safely reaching the shore by swimming, when he perceived a boat putting out from the port.

A very angry set of passengers greeted the master as he came over the side of his vessel and they were not altogether appeased by his explanation that the boat had been damaged on the outward trip, and he dared not entrust himself to it for the return until after the water and wind went down. He reassured John by the statement that his friends had gone forward to Amiens to avoid the poor accommodation at St. Valèry, and would there await him. Having made his excuses, the master proceeded to get his passengers ashore as quickly as possible and offered John a seat in the first boat which he was only too glad to accept, for, though his mind was somewhat easier, he felt impatient to rejoin his new patron—and his chest.

John’s first thought on landing was to procure a horse to carry him to Amiens, but when he thrust his hand into his pocket he discovered that he had not a single penny—even his purse was with his baggage. He might walk, but Amiens was nearly forty miles distant and it would take him two days to cover the ground on foot. Moreover, he would need food on the way and was already hungry and faint, having in his anxiety of the previous hours neglected to eat. Clearly he must get some money, and the readiest way to do so seemed to lie in selling his cloak, which was a very good one. He disposed of it to the innkeeper at a fair price, ate a hurried supper, and was in the act of arranging for the hire of a horse, when one of his fellow passengers entered the tavern and expressed a desire to speak with him privately.

The man who thus claimed John’s attention was a soldier of middle age with an honest and weather-beaten countenance. He had arrived on one of the last boat trips but had sought our hero with as little delay as possible. He now expressed his belief that John was the victim of a plot to deprive him of his money and belongings. De Preau he said was slightly known to him as the son of a notary of Mortagne, and he believed the other rascals to be natives of that town. He had not suspected any mischief until he heard the master on his return from shore refer to De Preau as a nobleman. He doubted not the ship captain had connived at the swindle, but nothing could have been proved against him in the absence of the chief culprits.

John was at first disposed to be angry with Curzianvere, as the soldier was named, for not having spoken sooner and denounced the master on the spot. He readily excused the other, however, when he explained that he was an outlaw from the country on account of a political offence and now secretly visiting his home at great risk. It was natural that he should have hesitated to get mixed up in a scrape that would necessitate his appearing before a magistrate at the hazard of being recognized. By divulging this much about himself he had confided in the honor of a stranger, but so great was the confidence with which John’s frank demeanor inspired him that he would go still farther and, as his road lay past Mortagne, would guide him thither. He warned John, however, that he could not venture to enter any large town in Picardy or Brittany, much less appear as a witness against De Preau and his companions, should they be found.

With this understanding the two soldiers set out together, and after several weeks’ tramping, during which Curzianvere had shared his slender purse with John, they arrived at Mortagne. Here the outlaw, perhaps fearing complications that might arise from his companion’s errand, decided to continue his journey. Before parting with the young wayfarer, however, he gave him letters to some friends residing in the neighborhood from whom he might expect hospitable treatment.

John entered the town, and so far as the first step in his quest was concerned, met with immediate success. Almost at once he encountered De Preau and Courcelles sauntering along the main street. John’s bile rose as he perceived that both were tricked out in finery abstracted from his chest. He strode up to them and in angry tones charged them with deception and the theft of his goods. The sudden encounter confused the rogues, but De Preau quickly regained his composure.

“Does Monsieur honor you with his acquaintance?” he asked of Courcelles with a significant look.

“Had I ever seen that striking face before I must have remembered it,” replied the other, taking the cue from his leader.